


Satisfied

by Firenza



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gore, Grief, Happy halloween, Murder, Mute - Freeform, October, Organs, Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Satisfaction, Serial Killer, puppet, zalgo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 09:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firenza/pseuds/Firenza
Summary: There was something tantalizing about the scent of blood that hung in the air afterwards. He wanted more.





	Satisfied

The first Halloween after Anti’s arrival was spent mostly cowering in fear as they waited for the moment they knew was coming. Instead, they were surprised with a new ego and only a whisper of the monster they were terrified of. Jameson was just as confused as they were. With no voice and hardly even a shaky memory of how he had found himself in this new time, it took them awhile to figure anything out.

Jameson was always distant, preferring to spend most of his time in his room rather than out with the others. What he did during that time, none of them knew. He never made any effort to communicate with anyone when they _were_ together. Eventually, they stopped trying all together.

Like always, October was a tense month as they prepared for whatever the glitch planned for them that year. Even though his attacks came more frequently throughout the year than just Halloween, it was the time of year when he seemed to have the most power. Towards the end of the month, however, he began to show himself a bit more. Jameson tried to become social with the others, but without a voice it was hard. Sometimes he would write things out if he had something to say, but he usually resorted to listening to the others chatter on about whatever they desired.

The first time it was an accident. He swears it was. The knife had slipped from Jameson’s hand while he was making dinner with Jackie and somehow found its way into the poor hero’s thigh. Jackie was alright in the end, but he wasn’t. There was something tantalizing about the scent of blood that hung in the air afterwards. He wanted more.

Very early in the morning, he snuck into the hero’s room, knife in hand. It was easy to get what he wanted as he didn’t struggle at all. Much. He was dead before he knew what was happening, but that still wasn’t enough for him. He cut open the corpse’s torso, taking a look at all of the beautiful pieces that had once worked in tandem to keep the hero alive. And that sweet smell! It brought him a sort of high that nothing ever had before.

And yet, he still wasn’t satisfied.

He slipped out of the room, careful not to wake any of the others. Before they could notice the hero’s death, he took down the father. He’d been begging for this end for so long that it was only kind that he gifted it to him. The father submitted himself almost immediately, not fighting against him at all. It was disappointing, but he carried on with his work. This time, the knife went right into his heart. he did the same to him as he had done to the hero, cutting him open and admiring all of the dying organs.

The end of that night’s spree came all too soon when he heard the sound of voices outside the door. Slipping out an open window in the father’s bedroom and back in through a bathroom window, he managed to escape before. he thoroughly washed my hands and the knife, making sure that there wasn’t a drop of blood left that could be traced back to me.

Everyone was on edge the next day, having found two of their friends dead that morning. Almost immediately they’d pointed fingers at everyone but him. The killer was right under their noses and they couldn’t even see it. How foolish they were. Their ignorance would be their end.

It was easy to infiltrate the doctor’s room. He was still awake filling out paperwork for his job. he entered, hiding his bloodstained hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. The doctor didn’t want to pay attention to his work; instead, they talked about the strange deaths of their friends. Or rather, the doctor talked endlessly while he listened. The doctor’s weariness worked in his favor, as he didn’t have to hide his true desires as much. In the end, he killed him with his own medical tools. A scalpel to the heart and a stethoscope wound tight around his neck. His eyes were pulled out and placed in a mason jar resting on the counter. It was fascinating to see all of the nerves that strung out like wire behind them.

The one left were perfectly saved for last. The magician was so much weaker than he thought he was, and he couldn’t wait to put that to the test. But he would have to wait. Three deaths so close together wasn’t what he wanted. Besides, he couldn’t wait to hear his screams.

He got exactly what he wanted.

He strayed away from him for most of the day, pretending to be grieving for their lost friends. In truth, he was planning on how best to satisfy himself once more. Would he tear out their innards and string them about? Or should he keep it clean and simple; after all, there would be no one to impress anymore.

The magician was easy. Too easy for his taste. Fear consumed him as the realization of who the killer really was dawned a few moments too late. He tried to cast a spell, but it died on his lips along with the rest of him as his knife found his heart. He decided to make him look pretty, cutting a smile into his cheeks. His ears were cut off and placed in his hair, chopped into triangles like cat’s. He put his mask over his face so that the black, sour blood dripping down his chin was really noticeable.

“G̕o̕o̸d̸ j͠ob̵,̛ ̨p͝up̶p̢e̷t҉. I a͠m ve͞ry proud of̢ ̢yo͏u͘,” A clawed hand rests itself onto his shoulder. He feels a cold fog envelop his mind. A bright, white grin meets his eyes as he spins around to face the master that had puppeted him since the beginning. “I͢t̸'s y͞our ͜b͡i͜rt̡hday, y̢ou know?̧ You d̵e̶s̷e̡r̶ve ̨s̴o͠meth̷i͟n͘g͞ sp͠ecia̕l. A p̸r͟e͏s̵ęn͜t ͘i͠f you͟ will̸.”

 _Oh?_ He wonders, _What would that be?_

As if he could hear his thoughts, because he probably could, Anti smiles at him. “I͠'͜l͞l̷ ͡let ̡yo͝u d͘o͏ ͏t͞he h͠onor̕s̕ ̨of͟ t͠he͡ fin͠ąle͜.̶”

 _Finale?_ He tilts his head to the side.

The glitch gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Y̧ou'͏ll͞ ͘se͡e̢.” Anti leads him into the doctor’s clinic to the cot where their creator lay. He points to the man with his own knife. “N͞ow, ̸y̵o̡u̧ ca̴n f͝i͠n̵all̸y҉ b̕e ̢sa̴tisfi͘ed.̧”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the THIRD thing that I wrote for Halloween. I'm not super proud of it, but it's better than the other things. One of them never even got finished.
> 
> Happy Halloween, everyone!


End file.
